My Angel - Phantom Of The Opera
by abyssdebris
Summary: An alternate to the Music of the Night scene, featuring Christine Dae and the Phantom.


I sang to her with all of my heart, craving to touch her soft skin. Her head was tilted back, her mouth open and eyes closed. My beautiful Christine, with her ringlets and her lashes, breathless from the music I was giving her. I took a step closer, my blood racing as my words turned soft. She stayed there, inhaling gently, goosebumps covering her neck like velvet. They disappeared under her delicate white gown.

"Floating, falling..." I whispered, grabbing her hands gingerly, running my shaking fingers over hers. I did not deserve to be touch such a beautiful flower. I was just a weed and she was my Eden. I let my words drift off, ashamed of myself. I dropped her hands. Disgusting. How could I even dare to touch her? I turned away –

She grabbed my hand with a gentle but firm grip. I turned to look at her, only to find her gazing up at me with her heavenly eyes. "Phantom," Christine breathed, "I..." I took a step closer, a small blossom of warmth erupting in my chest. My eyes met hers as I carefully laced our fingers. "I..." she started again.

I closed my eyes sadly. She could never love a monster such as myself. "I understand," I heard myself utter so quietly it was barely audible. "You want to leave."

Christine touched my face and my eyes shot open. She was frozen, staring up at me in hesitation and fear. But she made no move towards my mask. My mouth was open slightly, for I did not know what to say. Such a lovely angel was gracing me. What was I to do?

It was then that she kissed me. She had quietly risen on her toes, her mouth tilted just slightly to fit mine, minding the mask's limitations. It was just a soft touch, a question and plea. I held her hand to my cheek, stunned. My eyes welled with tears. "Christine..." I could not go on, for she kissed me again. She slowly pressed against me, her other hand sliding up my neck, fingers brushing the cheek of my facade as she filled me with warm. I was intoxicated, filled with such a warmth I had never known.

"My Phantom," she gasped softly. Her thumb brushed the edge of my mask, sliding under it. "My Angel..." She was asking the question against my lips. Dread filled me, for this moment was soon to end. I didn't stop her. I was weak from her power over me. She gently lifted my curse from my face, step away just slightly to take in the horrors. I cast my gaze down. Such a monster could not look at her. It was over.

But she stopped me with a hand to my cheek again. She put her other hand on my ruined face, cupping my jaw and gazing at me. I slowly met her gaze again. I breathed in surprise and relief. There was no disgust, no hatred in the way she looked at me. "My Angel," she whispered again, pulling my face to hers. Our lips met and recalled me to the life I had forgotten, the warmth of my pulse and the color in my cheeks. I slid a hand into her hair and cupped the nape of her neck, kissing her timidly.

The heat grew and I closed my eyes. Was this a dream? A sick, twisted, heavenly dream? I was soon to wake up, I was sure of it. Her body was pressed against my chest, hers heaving under the heavy bodice of her costume. My hands slipped down to her waist, following the marvelous shape of her body. She let out a soft, shallow moan, and I struggled to keep my composure. She made no flinch against my disfigurement, her lips gentle and caring.

How could I stand there? How could I let Christine, my perfect Christine, lean into me like this? I could not. I ripped my self away, covering my face with my wretched hand, gasping for air. "I'm sorry," I growled. "I am a fool! Begone, daemon." Bitter loneliness seeped into my lungs as I hissed at her. I could not stand to look at her desperate face. I would poison her, wilt her. That is something I could not bare. I stalked to the other side of the room, running my hands over my face, covering my eyes. I was a fool, a terrible, wretched fool!

"Stop!" She demanded, her voice quavering. I could hear the tears in her eyes, the embarrassment on her cheeks. Her little fists were clenched at her sides as I whirled to face her. She was, indeed, teared up, thin arms shaking. Her hair had been mussed by my hands. She was so beautiful, my perfect Christine. "Stop it, my Phantom. Stop that this instant!"

I watched her, my arm covering where my mask was supposed to be. Her hands relaxed as I glared at her. Her gaze dropped to the ground, her hands slowly moving up to her shoulder. My breath caught in my throat as she let the clothing drop down, revealing her bare shoulders and arms. She was just in her bodice and her underskirts. I gaped as she trembled before me, almost nude. Christine looked back up at me then, from under her thick lashes. "Phantom...my angel..." She opened her arms to me, her expression wistful. I had never seen such a paradise, never dreamed the golden gates would open to a daemon such as myself. I rushed forward, forgetting for once the brand of my misery as I pulled her into my arms.

"My angel," I whispered back, lips to her neck. "My angel..."


End file.
